


"I've had a really bad day"

by Versolite



Series: A Rawson canvas [6]
Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Beating, Brotherly Angst, Brothers, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt, Physical Abuse, Punching, Violence, anyways yeah that's not funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Versolite/pseuds/Versolite
Summary: “I’m a magistrate. You know well what kind of measures…- Christopher, what did you do to Anne Lister?"After seeing Anne Lister wounded in episode 6, Jeremiah has to confront Christopher about his methods. But he unfortunately chose one of the worst possible days to do so...
Relationships: Christopher Rawson (1777-1849) & Jeremiah Rawson (1787-1839), Marian Lister & Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Series: A Rawson canvas [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931890
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Une mauvaise journée](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112117) by [Versolite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Versolite/pseuds/Versolite). 



He knew Christopher would not like the suggestion.

His brother stares at him with an annoyed amusement, slowly shaking his head:

“Are you going to ask the same question every day? No, we won’t pay the fucking price this… _woman_ ” he virtually spits this word “is asking for. Don’t worry about her. I will take the measures that have to be taken.

\- Bloody hell, Christopher, of course I'm worried! You're putting us both in danger! Please, just let me get this over with!

\- That's not going to happen.”

The cadet's fist tightens, his muscles tense up. So, what, that’s it? A categorical tone, again, and Christopher hopes he will just give up on the conversation? Without any further explanation, guarantee or argument? Does he hope to send him away as easily as he does with Welly? Jeremiah leans suddenly on the table, bringing back Christopher’s attention to him:

“I won’t let things go this way, you hear me?

\- Are you threatening me?" Christopher replies coldly.

No. No, Jeremiah isn’t scared. His brother has done too much of that to him. Lowering his voice, getting up and approaching him until Jeremiah steps back, his stupid intimidation maneuvers, it just doesn't work anymore. The younger one shudders, but stands up straight, not giving an inch of ground, then the other one raises his voice, startling him: “What's the matter with you?!

\- I'm just trying to understand!” His voice vibrates. Of course it does. But since he's pleading, he might as well continue in this tone: “If this is discovered, our family...

\- I told you," the elder says, "I’m taking the measures that have to be taken.

\- What kind of measures can prevent us from being dragged into cour...?"

The younger interrupts himself. His brother’s confidence is way too familiar.

Of course, Jeremiah is not unaware of Christopher’s bad reputation. No one knows more about his business plans than he does, or that is, at least, what he’s been convincing himself of. According to those close to him, the younger Rawson has always been able to know better – to _do_ better – than his living disaster of a brother. So surely, if something was happening, he would be aware. Wouldn’t he?

In reality, Jeremiah has been uncomfortable around him for a while now. This is not only a matter of arrogance and mischief; he has been hearing things. Something about a brutal death, after a case Christopher was involved in, and a child who has lost his leg after a gig accident. And he can’t forget Anne Lister talked about Christopher’s gig, on one of his first visits…

He can’t be sure – the idea horrifies him – but he highly suspects Christopher of having left many victims in his path, during cases that were not of the order of his collaborations with Jeremiah. In fact, he is increasingly concerned about this, given the state in which he saw Anne Lister in their last discussion. The correlation between her condition and the more moderate price she gave is way too obvious.

It's high time that he confronts his brother about this.

“I’m a magistrate.” his brother replies in the meantime. “You know well what kind of measures…

\- Christopher, what did you do to Anne Lister?”

Christopher looks at him, squinting. The examination seems to amuse him; a slight smile crosses his face, and he puts a reassuring hand on Jeremiah's shoulder:

“You're easily fooled by this woman, Jerry. I almost feel like she has turned your head against me.” Jeremiah moves away, nauseous. “Pull yourself together. What are you even thinking?

\- Someone hit her. I saw the state she was in when we last spoke.”

His brother's smile melts away. Christopher’s frown seems sincere, yes... like all his attitudes, in fact. He knows how to lie so well that, to be fair, Jeremiah is well aware that he cannot only suspect the extent of the lies he may have woven and the truths he may have concealed from him. Just watching him parade around in front of Mother and their cousins, like Jeremiah and him weren’t thieves...

“Well, someone else has probably found out about her little secr…

\- I know it's you, don’t take me for a fool, for God's sake!

\- Jeremiah, I don't like your attitude. I've had a really bad day. Don't make me angry.

\- You can only blame yourself for that.”

Christopher pushes him out of the way, and Jeremiah is forced to let him overtake him. To see Christopher seizes a glass of alcohol sets fire to the powders.

“Don't drink now, I'm talking to you!

\- I just told you I've had a bad day, Jeremiah!

\- That's all I've had, bad days since Lister came back! But you’re not catching me drinking! What did you do to her? What else have you been hiding from m-?!”

The glass flies not far from his head, and the sound of shrapnel shakes him. He extends his arm by reflex to protect his face while Christopher grabs his shoulder to shake it violently:

“ _You're pushing me to the limit!_ " his brother shouts.

Jeremiah's mouth opens, but he is unable to say a word, in a state of shock. A push makes him hit the desk and fall against it. He remains on the floor, stunned; he catches the edge late, by reflex, while Christopher takes him by the collar to make him get up:

“L-leave me -

\- Shut up, Jeremiah. Just shut up. You're not even good at this. You can’t even talk properly. So shut. The fuck. Up.”

His hands clasped onto the garment, closing it around his brother's neck. Jeremiah tries to free himself from his grip, in vain; his breath desperately accelerates when he realizes Christopher’s starting to strangle him:

“Christopher, le-let go of me, it hurts!”

Another jolt hits his back against the office. He no longer dares to speak, understanding the message.

“It's been a month since I sent you to negotiate there for the first time, and what have you been doing?” Christopher smiles with a controlled rage. “Getting a decent price for me without wasting my time? You think I’ve actually got time for this? You come back with a bloody misunderstanding, miscalculations, and that bitch laughing at your face. You embarrass me. Embarrass me, Jeremiah. So stop stalking. You make me want to vomit.”

The cadet closes his eyes, panting desperately. He can't concentrate on what Christopher is telling him, he's shaking too much for that, and his vision fills with yellow glow and blurred tears. He coughs, unable to breathe properly, and too terrified to say a word that might upset his brother again. He’s petrified. His breaths are out of his control, and he even goes so far as to repress his tears. Slowly, the grip loosens, and the other man moves away. Jeremiah leans on the desk, holding a hand to his chest, shaking uncontrollably. What in God's name was that?

Christopher must not be content to see him obey him. It's the only rational explanation he can come up with when a fist hits him on his back, knocking him to the ground.

He hears himself shouting, and his body retracts as his brother's foot hits his ribs.

He does not know how long this torture goes on. Hours or a few seconds, it’s impossible to tell; the hits follow one another violently, crushing him, beating him from all sides. He is unable to think, unable to stop crying; he has the only certainty that he has set in motion a mechanism that will never cease. His brother is going to kill him, it’s the only thing he’s sure of. He should have seen it coming. He hears himself imploring him first, until his voice disappears in the screams, the complaints and the hiccups. He is in pain. There is no pain he has been through in his life that can compare to this.

When Christopher orders him, three times, to get up, Jeremiah painfully gathers his legs under his body and moans in pain as he leans against the desk. He waits for more hits to come, and his body stretches in preparation for them, but all he hears is a simple, cold "Go clean yourself up" and lifts his head in time to let his gaze follow Christopher as he leaves the room.

Jeremiah collapses, sobbing in the chair, when the door slams.


	2. Chapter 2

She listens to her aunt Anne and father’s conversation.

She is not particularly in the mood to join in the chat today. The troubles of the last few weeks and the humiliation she had to face darken her mood, and the two elders hardly manage, in the course of certain sentences, to make her nod her head or reply with a banality. This way, they guarantee that she is with them, that she supports their tone of speech, whatever they might be saying; but deep down, Marian Lister is simply tired, and barely paying attention.

She would love to have some peace, but it’s a thing forbidden to her by everyone in this bloody world. She still has to greet Jeremiah Rawson while waiting for Anne to return, and write a few letters to her friends before she is done with the day.

After lunch, she goes to the visiting room with her father while aunt Anne goes upstairs to rest. Marian reads the end of the morning’s news to the old man, and kills time by going through the chronicles and commenting them until, a few minutes before the time they agreed on, three knocks are heard at the door. The steps of the valet cross the corridor, the door opens; banalities are exchanged, the voices too low for her to hear. Not that she is spying, of course not, it would be indecent. Marian has plenty of time to mechanically smooth out her petticoats before getting up to welcome the newcomer:

“Mr. Rawson.

\- Good morning, miss Lister.”

Jeremiah Rawson gives her a nod and shakes her father's hand. A polite smile is painted on his face; he remains standing, and gestures to decline when Marian offers him the armchair in front of them:

“Thank you, but perhaps I should wait for your sister in the parlor room. I don't want to take up any of your time.”

He makes sure to articulate so that the old man can understand what he says. Jeremy Lister’s face has a disapproving look:

“Come on, you’re not taking any of our time. Please sit down. We're not going to leave you here.

\- Besides, my sister may not come back before another fifteen minutes," Marian agrees. “We might as well keep you company.

In fact, she would have preferred to avoid these niceties. She never finds what to say to this man, and she's always embarrassed by the remarks her father try to find to make conversation; but she's not Anne, and it's not a question of only settling for what she likes. A bitter smile crosses her lips, which she quickly represses before the host could think she’s mocking him.

However, the host's attitude seems rather curious today. It is in the way he stands stiff, looking nervously around him. If Jeremiah Rawson wasn't so affable, she would almost think he is feeling uncomfortable.

She suddenly feels alarmed. Christopher Rawson has mocked her about the deed, saying he had it... And, it would be stealing, but... this strange request from Jeremiah, was it some kind of failed ploy to get them out of the way so that he could search the room as he wants and take it? She remains still, considering the possibility with dread, while her father and Mr. Rawson begin to make conversation. She smiles, nods to what they say, horrified deep inside by this hypothesis. She will have to discuss it with Anne. Imperatively.

She meets Rawson’s gaze several times. He seems as distracted as she is, nodding to what Mr. Lister says without, she suspects, recording the slightest word. She sternly scrutinizes him until he coughs, embarrassed, and pulls himself together, nodding thoughtfully to a word of the master of the house; a much better attitude, which Marian congratulates herself of. When she hears Anne is back, she feels victorious, in conquered territory. They are at home here, and letting the Rawsons interfere is out of the question.

Or that's what she thinks, until the man slowly gets up. From the moment she started watching his movements, she has seen him several times do the same thing, some kind of movement to reach for his collar. He interrupted himself each time. As he stands up, his hand starts another unfinished motion, passing over his side before brutally falling back on his edges. He greets Anne, impassive, and they begin their discussion; but now that Marian has noticed his gestures, she easily spots the stiffness in the man's attitude. He also stands strangely on his legs. The tenor of the debate distracts Marian from all this:

“Mr. Rawson, I thought I had been quite lenient the last time we spoke, but the more time passes, the less frankly you play. The road that you or your brother butchered is actually on my land. In other words, you have used _my_ stones, through I don't know what contract with Hinscliffe that I will - most certainly - take the time to examine in court. I prefer to warn you again: I will not retrench my positions again on the coal. In fact, I am considering raising the price.

\- I understand, Miss Lister, but...

\- What does your brother want from me?”

The man lowers his gaze. There is some cold certitude in his reply:

“He planned that you would talk to me about Hinscliffe. He is quite ready to settle this matter in a court of law, as well as the rest.”

Anne's eyes crinkle. The man is pale, as confident as he tries to appear; Marian holds back a smile when her sister tilts her head, looking up and down at him.

“Well, it's a pity – for you – but in that case, we’ll discuss when the sessions will take place.

\- Mrs. Lister, wait.

She has already grabbed the bell to ring it, but turns around, annoyed, when he adds:

“I... I didn't want any of this, I can assure you.

\- These are the risks of the business, Mr. Rawson," Anne bravely replies. “I was ready to face the consequences. Were you?

The man lowers his head. He whispers something inaudible; Marian feels horrified when she sees tears in his eyes.

“What did you say?" Anne frowns.

The youngest daughter heard it perfectly.

“N-nothing. Excuse me.”

Marian gets up. Anne glances at her, as she calls Jeremiah Rawson before he walks away. The clues already seemed compelling enough to her, without the limp being added to it; but now she is no longer afraid to put her hand on his shoulder to hold him back:

“Mr. Rawson, is everything all right?”

He breathes in. Times feels suddenly slower; Father stares at the three of them, puzzled. No doubt he is unable to understand half of their confused words. Anne is caught unaware, looking alternately at her sister and Rawson, trying to grasp the situation, and Marian and the man do not move, staring at each other. Jeremiah Rawson seems terrified, but also desperate, and she watches his hand shaking slightly, tears in his eyes. No need to wait for his sister's approval:

“Sit down. Perhaps you need a glass of water?”

He nods his head mechanically.

“I… Yes, please. I am sorry.”

Marian gives the order, and watches him, uncertain. Anne pulls herself together::

“Mr. Rawson, if there is anything else, you should speak. It's not too late for you to testify. It might ease your sentence.”

Pragmatic words that hit the nail on the head. He looks down, trembling:

“I... I know what he did to you, Miss Lister. Christopher – my brother – I mean. I wanted to confront him about it.”

Marian looks at Anne, clearly meaning "What did he do to you?" but her sister sweeps the question aside with a discreet gesture:

“Go on?”

Mr. Rawson's lips become a fine line as he pulls his collar and, raising his head slightly, lets them see pinkish traces protruding from his garment. Marian looks away; her thoughts rush in. Has he been strangled? She listens to them, dizzy:

“What exactly happened?

\- He... It was a few hours ago, I... I... I've never seen him like this. He... he was certainly out of his mind, he would never…

\- Mr. Rawson, your brother is an alcoholic. And he didn't only mistreated you, he also paid a thug to beat me. Out of his mind or not, this is unacceptable.”

The statement is said in a cold and distant tone, and Marian looks at her, shocked. What did she just say? She opens her mouth but pulls herself together; it's not the best time to talk about it. The glass of water arrives, leaving them a few seconds of silence.

“I... I shouldn't have shown it to you," Jeremiah Rawson realizes, getting up. “Miss Lister, please...

\- Don’t leave. We are not done yet.

\- No, you don’t get it, it's... it's a matter of life and death. If you tell him what I just told you, I... Please, I can help you. I can testify on your behalf, I…

\- I won’t tell him anything.”

Marian clenches her fists and comes between him and Anne. If she had been told one day that she would try to defend a Rawson, she would hardly have believed it; but the tone in which the conversation goes does not please her, nor does the terrified physiognomy of the man:

“Anne, wait. Have you been examined, Mr. Rawson?” she asks him.

He shakes his head:

“I... I had to settle this matter first thing in the morning...

\- So what are we doing here…? You should stop your absurdities, the both of you! Perhaps you should check if he hasn't hurt you, before this interrogation. It's a doctor we should call, before this court nonsense!

\- What did he do to you, exactly?" Anne sighs, already tired of having to play the game. The man lowers his eyes, silent. “He strangled you, if I understand correctly. Did he hit you too?”

The man nods, and Anne frowns:

“You’re right, Marian. We should see this before anything.”

Anne helps Rawson up, and Eugénie guides him to the guest room at her request; the younger sister is stunned.

“Anne, do you really think _here_ is the best place to…?

\- Evidence is the biggest matter of a trial. And since Christopher Rawson wants to take me to court, let's get this over with as soon as possible. Hopefully, he has left some marks we can use.

\- Could we hope instead that he didn't beat him up?!”

Anne rolls her eye:

“Damn it, of course, Marian, I'm not a monster! But to be perfectly honest, I hope to win this trial. You've seen the awkward situation they've put us in. This is no time to be lenient. So let's go see if we have any evidence to work with.”


End file.
